


A Story of Long Ago

by MakeItMagnificent



Category: Queer as Folk (UK)
Genre: Christmas, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeItMagnificent/pseuds/MakeItMagnificent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas afternoon and memories of a first meeting ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Story of Long Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to QDS for her beta review and all her help and advice. xxx

It was that time on Christmas Day afternoon, when everyone was feeling stuffed and lethargic. Stuart and Vince were sitting squashed together on Romey's sofa, along with Hazel squeezed in next to them. Stuart was half way to sleep with his head resting on Vince's shoulder, when Romey repeated her plea, first made at the dinner table:

'I wanna know how you two met, when you first laid eyes on each other, _please_ , you've never told us, was it really _romantic?_ ' Like all the others, she'd drunk plenty by this time.

Stuart groaned and Vince smiled. They'd already heard about Romey and Lisa's first meeting at Uni (not romantic) and Hazel and Des's introduction (romantic!) and even when Hazel first met Bernie (lending a drunk on her doorstep her sofa, which soon turned into her spare bedroom).

'It was quite romantic ...' Vince began.

'No it was not  _romantic._ ' Stuart said the last word as if it offended him.

Vince ignored him, took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and began.

'Well, I was towards the back of the class. The desks seated two kids each and _obviously,_ there was no one sat next to me.'

'Obviously.' Stuart smirked.

Vince narrowed his eyes theatrically at him in reply. 'I was having to stand up and read out my French homework from the night before,' Vince continued. 'Oh my God, and I was so rubbish at French. Me 'n' Hazel had been at it for ages.'

'Ooooh.' Stuart grinned. 'Less said about that, the better.'

Vince glared at him. 'Stuart, how _old_ are you?' Stuart blew him a kiss, accompanied by  laughs and comments from the others, mostly suggesting that Stuart still had all the maturity and sense of a fourteen year old.

Shaking his head, he carried on. 'Wasn't particularly embarrassed doing this, cuz none of us was great at it. So there I am, just muddling through, when there's a knock at the door. It's the headmaster, there's this new kid, who'd arrived too late for that morning's registration ...'

  
♥ ♥ ♥

Mr Donaldson entered the room, trailing the new student behind him. Stuart was 14 years old, short, skinny, and sporting a mop of loose curls. He wore an expression of boredom and mild insolence. He didn't look at the other kids in the class but stood, back turned as the headmaster spoke to the French teacher, Mr Philips.

Stuart was then introduced to the class and Mr Donaldson explained that he had newly arrived from Ireland and would be joining their year and that it was expected that the other students would be welcoming. 

'And how is your French, Stuart?' asked Mr Philips. 'Did you study French in your old school?'

Stuart then proceeded to answer the teacher ... _fluently_ ... in French. There were no pauses or stumbling and his accent was a delicious mix of Irish and French. Mr Philips and the headmaster were delighted. And Vince, along with the other kids, had no idea at all of what was being said.  


As the two teachers beamed at him, Stuart smirked and the rest of the class collectively sneered.

Vince had also pulled a face along with the other kids. But when Stuart had walked in, the boy had already made an impression on him. He hadn't actually walked in, more sort of, _sauntered_. He hadn't stared at the ground as most (he) would have done, mortified by being dropped into a class of thirty kids, but had gazed confidently at the two teachers as they discussed him.

And now this new kid was risking name-calling, bullying and a school career of zero friends by _having a_ _conversation_ \- _in French_ \- with their teacher.

Vince was still standing up, having been interrupted from reading out his homework, as the teacher, an arm round Stuart, told him to go find a seat. Vince saw his face clearly for the first time; blue eyes, lean face, hair doing its own thing and uniform far too neat. His whole attitude, though relaxed and calm, seemed  to suggest  _'fuck off '_ to anyone who annoyed him. But Vince liked very much what he saw - there was something there lacking in his own personality - the boy looked like he was happy, more than happy, in his own skin. 

Stuart walked up the aisle as he looked for a seat, the smallest smile playing around his mouth. There were a few seats spare. One was next to Sharon and Sharon was recognised as gorgeous - clear skin, blond hair, well-developed and she had popularity to match. Her friend who sat with her was conveniently poorly that day. Vince sighed. He watched as Sharon coyly smiled at Stuart, flashed her eyes and pulled the chair out. Game over.

But Stuart kept on walking, taking his time, searching for just the right place. Two other girls were ignored. Then as his paced slowed, as he reached the back of the room, Stuart's eyes fell on Vince. As he met his gaze, Vince's cheeks warmed and the skin under his shirt and jacket became hot and prickly. Despite this though, his face broke into an easy smile. Stuart paused, tilted his head and smiled back. After taking a final look round, he sat down, scraping the chair noisily.

Vince remembered the other kids peering round, looking scornful, incredulous, when they saw where the new boy had chosen to sit. Vince was neither popular nor unpopular; one of those regular kids who was just average at everything.

The teacher told Vince to continue with his reading. As he carried on struggling with the words, he felt Stuart's eyes watching him and knew he was smirking. Vince's cheeks burned as the words stuck in his mouth.  
  
'... de quelques pois... pois...' Vince stammered.

'... poissons rouges,' Stuart whispered.

  
♥♥♥

Stuart didn't remember much of that first day at school. Definitely not being brought into class or the process of looking for a desk. He didn't remember being nervous - when the fuck had he ever been nervous? He'd remembered scanning the class, sizing up the other boys but he had no recollection of the girls, whether they were flirting with him or ignoring him.

But what he did remember was his gaze lingering on this boy with his shabby uniform, his pink cheeks and his lovely blue eyes and seeing something in those eyes, a look of kindness and understanding. And recognition. When Stuart saw that sweet shy grin, he knew he needn't be looking any more.

He remembered Vince couldn't say 'goldfish'. He remembered Vince's exercise book for fuck's sake, a doodle drawn on the corner of the page, a drawing of a dalek with the, whatever the fuck it was that kills people, coming out of its plunger thing travelling down the side of the page ...

Of course, Stuart didn't say any of this on that Christmas afternoon with everyone else there. Urgh. He'd rather go celibate for a month, than have the others think he possessed one single romantic/sweet/sentimental bone in his body. Of course, Vince had heard all this before, the story extracted from him after far too much drink one night. And Vince, loving every word, made sure he was _well_ rewarded.

  
♥♥♥  


'Urgh, but why does it sound romantic?' Stuart said, grimacing. 'And can I just go back to sleep now?'  
  
Vince smiled at him and patted his cheek. 'Nope,' he replied, before sliding his fingers surreptitiously under Stuart's jumper. Stuart squirmed and stifled a giggle. 'Doctor Who in five minutes, Christmas special. _Then_. Doctor Who Confidential. Then, oh my God, we've got that Dickens drama, I know, I know, Charles Dickens, but it's got David Tennant in it, so we can't miss that. And then that Catherine Tate comedy special ...'  


Stuart gazed at Vince as he went on with no apparant sign of stopping. He'd heard this rundown many times before, probably right from the start of December when Vince had first got the Radio Times. He certainly wasn't listening to him. But he was looking at him - watching that smile keep appearing whenever he managed to pause for breath. Watching and being transported back to that long ago very first smile ...

  
♥♥ The End ♥♥ 


End file.
